Never Forgotten
by Little Miss Wicked
Summary: When Mark Fitzgerald was younger, he met the love of his life. Then he never heard from her again. But she was always on his mind. Years later, she comes to Degrassi. Will they rekindle their romance or was there a reason they lost touch?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Camp

Petra's .

"But I don't want to go. I can't leave you guys alone all summer! Ethan and I haven't been apart for more than a week before!" I cried. It was the summer before 8th grade and Jeremy and Tim were dropping me off at Camp Loyola, a Christian summer camp. In Canada. Canada. Without Ethan, my twin brother.

"Petra Alee Lennon-La Croix, stop whining. You and Ethan need some time apart. He has to learn to stand on his own. You can't spend your whole life protecting him." Jeremy scolded. I huffed, but all he did was offer a sad smile. Tim was already carrying my stuff up to Cabin 11, my home for the next 4 weeks.

"Dads, if you do this to me, I'll never forgive you. You can't keep us apart." I begged. I was trying my hardest not to cry. Ethan was completely silent. Icy, almost. He would always be like that if it wasn't for me always being there, coaxing him out of his shell.

"I'm sorry, Pet. But this is for your own good. You need to learn to exist without having to watch out for Ethan. And so does he." Tim apologized, slightly out of breath from hauling all my crap up the massive hill between us and Cabin 11. Jeremy sweet talked him into carrying it all up. Typical. He was like Ethan: subdued and easily swayed. I was like Jeremy: aggressive and abrasive.

"Fine. Be that way. Good-bye." I said tersely. I turned to Ethan. His face was paler than normal and he was trembling slightly. Like a scared little rabbit. Leaning forward, I pulled him into a tight hug.

"Please. Don't go." he whispered. "I can't do this without you."

"I know, E. It's only 4 weeks, it'll go fast. I'll be home soon. I love you." I replied. Ethan whimpered what vaguely sounded like an 'I love you', before pulling away.

I watched as they climbed back into the car and drove away. Ethan's face stayed pressed to the window and it broke my heart. I trudged up the hill to Cabin 11, getting more and more depressed with each step. Eventually I reached the cabin.

The first thing I noticed when I opened the door made my heart skip a beat. Along one wall was a massive crucifix. And several other crucifixes all around the cabin. That wasn't the problem; sure, Ethan had been an atheist since before he could spell it, but I believed in God and Jesus. The problem was the silence. It was never silent at home. I couldn't remember a time when I could hear my own thoughts. And I loved it. But all of that was gonna change now.

This was going to be a very long 4 weeks…

The next morning I got up early to take a shower. The counselor, Mindy, had told me that if I went before 7 a.m., I could use the boys shower. Which had much better water pressure, according to her. I could go without sleep for a good shower.

The other girls in my cabin were strange. It turned out that all 4 of them -Kayla, Olivia,

Izzie, and Tori had all known each other since they were 4 and were best friends. Which was great. Day 2 at camp and I'm already an outcast.

I reached the bathhouse. It was a short, squat building half-way into the woods. It was quiet, too. But this was good quiet. Peaceful quiet, not stark quiet. I walked in and set my stuff in a shower, humming that song that had been playing on the radio for what seemed like the whole ride up. I started to get undressed, but all of the sudden I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

I turned slowly, like someone who had just learned they were standing on a minefield and was trying to out maneuver the explosives. Right there, leaning up against the wall, was a boy. "Aaah!" I screamed. He shot up as I pulled my shirt back down, remembering I had started to get undressed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I yelled, pressing my hand against my heart. He

smirked.

"Uh, I should be asking you that. This is the _boys_ shower, FYI."

"You're so clever I may die." I dead panned. He narrowed his eyes, I narrowed mine.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around, shower girl." he said, before turning and walking straight past me. I could feel him brush against me ever so slightly.

I was infuriated. But also intrigued. He was certainly clever and quick. Also his brown hair and fox=like features were sorta…cute.

I took my shower in peace and quiet. The water pressure was as good as Mindy said it would be. Breakfast passed by in a haze. The other tables were loud and raucous. Ours was still silent. For best-friends, Kayla, Olivia, Izzie and Tori sure didn't talk a lot. Or maybe that was because of me. I wasn't one of them and they didn't know how to treat me.

Just then, a counselor stood up on top of his chair. "Attention! It's time to announce our pairs for the summer. Your partner will be by your side all summer long, so try to get along. Some of you will be with same sex buddies, others not. I don't want any complaining. When I read your name, stand up and go outside with your buddy. Okay, first we've got…"

He read through name after name. Soon enough half of us were gone. Then he called my name.

"….Petra Lennon-La Croix and Mark Fitzgerald." he yelled. I stood up and headed for the door….and it turns out Mark Fitzgerald is none other than the biy from this morning.

"Hey, shower girl. This'll be fun." he laughed. It was a dry, mocking laugh; not a nice one. I smacked him on the shoulder. Hard. "Or not." he gulped.

Please review! I'm gonna do alternating one chapter with their time at camp, then one now, with a flip P.O.V.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Degrassi

Petra's P.O.V.

It's the first day of school. At Degrassi. My brand new school.

Ethan is sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over and staring into his oatmeal. Jeremy is bustling around, making coffee and humming, while Tim groggily searches through one of the many boxes littering our house for silverware. I'm sitting on a nifty little window ledge, reading. Or at least pretending to read.

Looking at Ethan and me, you'd never think we we're related, much less twins. We've got the same pale skin, with faint freckles across our noses, light brown eyes, crazy wavy hair, and permanently pouting, pale pink lips. But his hair is a dark, almost black, brown and my is a sort of mixture of copper, blonde and brown. He also towers over my mere 5 feet, 3 inch frame. The resemblance is somewhat obvious.

"Petra, you should eat something. You didn't eat much at dinner last night and it's a good way to start the day." Jeremy suggests gently. I shake my head. "Petra, please…."

"Oh, give her a break, Jer. She'll eat when she's hungry. She's a big girl now." Tim cuts in. I'm grateful that he's coming to my defense, but my stomach curls because I know that I can't eat when I'm hungry. I barely eat these days. It's just too hard. Almost everything I swallow comes back up.

"Tim. Come help me check in the other room for the plates. Now." Jeremy replies, his tone stiff. Tim looks hesitant but he follows anyway. They'll always follow each other. That's just how much they love each other. I hope my problems don't put a strain on that.

Ethan finally looks up. "Why do you always do this? It kills Jeremy and Tim's just oblivious."

I look at Ethan, long and hard. He doesn't know anything. His world consists of video games and the dirty magazines he thinks that I don't know about. He doesn't understand real things. "I don't know what you mean. I'm fine. Just not hungry." I smile, before turning back to my book.

"Hmph. You're never hungry. But you have to be. I guess you just don't eat." he says, his eyes flitting over my thin body.

"Stop. I don't want to hear this. I'll eat when I can. I'm fine for now." I breathe. "Ethan, just…please. This is a new school. A new start. For both of us. It's not St. Katharine's. I want it to be different."

"Fine." he replies in a clipped voice. It's strange to see Ethan worried about me. I've spent my whole life watching out for him and now he's watching me. I feel like a baby. A stupid little baby who can't even take care of herself. This was never me. I was fierce. Independent. Opinionated. My own person. But now, I'm a weak shadow of that girl.

Funny how things change.

Fitz's P.O.V.

It's time for day one of senior year. One more year till I can leave my parents and go out on my own. Maybe to college… probably somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

I'm waiting for Bianca to come pick me up. I'm glad she's finally going to Degrassi after all these years. Now at least I have a ride. Even if that dickweed Owen is always around her, like a leech. I swear, the way he looks at every girl is disgusting. Especially Bianca. Bianca is mine now. And I'm hers.

Neither of us wants it to be this way. If there were more options, it'd be different. But few guys can handle Bianca and most girls are scared of me and my big, bad reputation. So we have each other. Nothing big. Just fooling around. It keeps us both happy and acts as a distraction. After all, what's a better way to forget your dad beating you then screwing around with a hot girl?

It's way past the time Bianca said she'd come get me and our carpool agreement isn't exactly set in stone, so I assume she's not coming. Nothing like starting the school year with a 2 mile walk.

I swing my back pack over my shoulder. It's heavy, full of notebooks and folders. I decided that this year, I'm going to try. Try and make something of myself. It's not as easy as it looks, but I'll try.

My feet pound against the side walk. I wish that I had an Ipod or something to distract me from the thoughts in my head. I try to think about pointless, meaningless things. Like Bianca and my bad math scores and Owen's douche bag personality. Because if I don't, for even a second my thoughts will come back to _her_. They always do.

Petra.

The shower girl.

The only girl who intimidated me and entranced me at the same time.

She laughed at everything. She was a year younger, but seemed more grown up than I could ever fathom being. She made me question myself. She always, always had a book. She would try to jog and end up skipping. She'd make up crazy hand signals and claim they were a mythical language she'd read about. She was my first and only love. She'd promised she would write to me. But she never did.

And here I go again, back down the Petra path. No matter what, I'll always find some way to subconsciously connect everything to her. Even after 3 years, I still remember the way she wore her hair, the smell of her soap, her favorite color, and why she was at Camp Loyola.

Some things you can never forget. No matter how much you need to.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Camp

Fitz's P.O.V.

I was sleeping in the bathroom that morning when we first met.

It was the first morning of camp and I'd already alienated my cabin mates. They absolutely _hated me_. I know that when people live together for a month, there's bound to be _some_ animosity. But this was far from that. They flat out despised me.

There were 6 of us: me, Ryan, Jennings, Tyler, David, and the counselor, Greg. Generally, it was okay. Until that prick David opened his mouth. Kid couldn't shut up. I wanted to shove an icepick in my ear ten minutes after meeting him. The worst part was they all knew about me.

I guess the camp told them to see if they were comfortable staying with me or something. Most likely they just heard the stories. The incredibly true stories. They knew I was Mark Fitzgerald, the bad kid with a mile long juvenile record by his 13th birthday. They didn't know all of it or they wouldn't test me. But I didn't want to slip up and pound one of them, so the less time I spent in the cabin, the better.

Dad warned me that nothing better happen at camp or he would send me off to live with my cousins, who lived all the way in Kentucky and were strict Christians. Kentucky. It was so far away. Far from Mom. Far from my home. Far from Bianca. I couldn't give him a reason to send me off.

So Camp Loyola was supposed to straighten me out.

After the shower incident, when Petra was assigned as my buddy or partner or whatever they called it, I was excited. Girls always liked the bad boys. I learned that from T.V. and personal experience.

But I soon learned that wasn't true in all cases.

"C'mon, Mark! Keep up! It isn't that hard." Petra screamed over her shoulder. Despite being tied together, I was inches behind her. She moved so quick for someone with such short legs. I was astounded. "We need to win!"

It was the three-legged race, one that involved trekking through the woods. A get-to-know-you game, probably designed with the intention of making us resent each other right off the bat. "Christ! How do you do that?" I screamed right back, sort of quieter than her. 'Christ' was a forbidden word at Camp Loyola when not used with a cheery tone and 'Jesus' before it and 'is my savior' after it. I could get in serious trouble for that.

"It's called be athletic, dumbo. You should try it." she suggested snidely before speeding up. I didn't think she could go faster, so I wasn't expecting it. So I fell. And so she fell on top of me.

"Fuck." I muttered. Petra was spread long ways across my midsection, causing a dull pain in my ribs. A bruise would surely form later. Someone would see it and I'd get reamed out for fighting or something. Great.

"Ow. Why are you so clumsy? Seriously." Petra groused, climbing to her feet. "We aren't gonna win now."

"So what? Psshaw. I don't wanna meet the losers who do win." I scoffed.

Petra rolled her eyes. "Of course." she mumbled under her breath. My ears perked up.

"What?" I snapped.

"Nothing. That's just so like you." she laughed dryly. It was a sharp laugh.

"How is that like me? How? Tell me." I raised an eyebrow, daring her to back down.

"You never try hard and depreciate those who do. You cover your fears with sharp comments. I bet you think you're a bad-ass or something? Hm? Do you? A BAMF, as they call it?" she smirked, her eyes narrowing. My blood boiled. This girl was really starting to piss me off. Fine. She knows all about me, I know about her too.

"Fine. Maybe that is me. But what about you?" I ask. She stays quiet, so I keep going. "You try to be good at everything because you have horrible self-esteem. You can't make friends because you're way to fucking high-strung and that creeps people out. You're probably the perfect little princess who'd never even said a bad word."

She's stunned. Her face starts to crumble, with tears falling from her big, brown eyes, and I know I've crossed the line. But it's too late now. She turns and sprints off and I know there's absolutely no hope of me catching her. So I stand up and start heading back the way we came, towards central camp. I just hope I find a way to tell her I'm sorry. And that she accepts it.

Somehow, I know she will.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Degrassi

Petra's P.O.V.

"School picture!" Tim calls, running down the stairs waving a camera. Ethan, Jeremy and I all wince; this happens every year and every year it just gets more painful. I give Jeremy a hopeful look, praying that this once he'll pull the reins in. But no, all I get is a sad smile.

"Mirror check!" Tim cries manically, waving us over to the hall mirror. There's Jeremy, tall and dark and soft looking, like a teddy bear, Tim, tall, sharp featured with wiry blonde hair, Ethan, pale, tall, dark haired, and disinterested. Then there's me: long hair, annoyingly short, freckly, with a little button nose. Cute. I'm always cute.

"Okay, let's have Petty sit cross legged on the ottoman, with Ethan putting his arm around her. Jeremy, you and I will stand in the back. Everyone got it? Good. Let's go." Tim orders, propping the camera up against the credenza and setting the timer. I plop down on the ottoman, Ethan slides around me, and Tim and Jeremy stand in the back.

We sit there for a few awkward seconds, waiting for the flash. It finally goes of and Tim flies at the camera. "Perfect. Now let's get out the door. It's already 7:30! You don't want to be late the first day of school. What message does that send?"

I slide into my beaten maroon, lace-up boots and grab my bag, plain khaki with little rivets. The same one I've used since 7th grade. My outfit is pretty boring; this is the first day back at school, in my memory, where I haven't spent hours fretting over my outfit. It feels strange, but also…exciting.

I've also overturned the no skirts rule Noelle and I made in 6th grade; it's a brown miniskirt so short it worries me. But no one in my family said anything, although considering they're all guys, one of them is related to me and the other two raised me, I doubt they'd notice the length of my skirt, so I'll wear it. It's just too big, as most things are now and when I walk it starts to slide off of my skinny hips. Topping it off is a plain, beige-y tank top. I think I look kinda cool, but I remind myself not to think about it seconds later.

Ethan and I trudge out to our shared car. Which is actually only Ethan's because I don't, under any circumstances, want to drive. Ever. It terrifies me.

Once we're in and driving away, I start to feel hungry. Mind blowingly hungry. I want to ask Ethan to make a stop at a coffee place or something, but I know that even if I do eat, if I can, it'll all just come back up later.

The stress-vomiting started back in March. When I got beaten out for the solo in the spring recital by Harley Millner. It was afterwards, when the Dads had taken me out to celebrate the solo they assumed I'd get, but weren't sure how to react when I told them I didn't get it. So we still went. Ethan refused to come; we were fighting that day.

I was eating a delicious piece of grilled chicken, with pepper and lots of spices. But every time I took a bite, that little voice inside my head pops up, reminding me that I don't deserve a celebratory meal, that Harley Millner isn't having one; she's practicing. And Harley actually has something worth celebrating. I was such a loser.

And then I started to think about all the tests I had that week, how little I understood in the extra Latin class I was taking at the community college, how I was never going to get into a good school. My stomach was churning. I calmly stood up, asked to be excused and promptly heaved my guts out in the bathroom.

When I was done, I sat there leaned up against the wall for a few minutes. Finally, I stood up, wiped off my mouth, went back outside and told Jeremy and Tim that I had a head ache. I didn't tell them about the vomiting. I thought it was a one-time thing.

How wrong I was.


End file.
